Chapter 3

Arafa's face went white. For a moment he simply stared. Then finally: "A child? Are you sure?"

Was I sure? Was it possible to be unsure?

"I'm sure," I replied, trying to sound confident despite my weakness.

Arafa's shock was still apparent. "But we-- we--"

"You what?" I asked. I was actually surprised that they hadn't discovered my condition on their own.

"We examined you, mended your wound, and have kept you here for five days--"

"Five days?" I asked. It was my turn to my shocked. "I was unconscious for that long?"

"Yes, you were," he answered me. "Your body had been through quite a shock. Fafara and I found you in the desert and rescued you. Aside from a few brief moments of lucidity right at the moment we approached you, you were totally insensible. You were very near death, you understand."

I nodded.

"Yet all along you were hosting a pearl." His voice was thoughtful and somewhat full of amazement.

"Yes," I confirmed. "By now it's five weeks along."

Arafa blanched -- again. "Five weeks?" I noticed how he swallowed after he spoke, as if he had suddenly grown powerfully upset.

"What is it?" I asked anxiously.

Arafa looked down as he spoke. "We did not notice it. We examined you but we did not notice. I thought Fafara would have been thorough, but perhaps we assumed too much... were so focused on the blood that we ignored what was within you."

He sighed. "Still, I would think we would have noticed. I wonder if, perish the thought, there was nothing to detect because -- oh, please, I hate to be so blunt -- perhaps the pearl is dead."

Even though I was absolutely certain the pearl was in fact alive, I shuddered passed through me. That had been my fear upon awaking in the desert, but since then I had enjoyed the relief of knowing that fear had not been realized.

"No, it's alive," I told him. "I can feel it moving inside of me and I know, know with my soul, that it has survived."

Arafa put his hands to the sides of his face. "A miracle, Dera, truly a miracle."

For a few moments, perhaps a full minute, both of us were silent. Once again, I felt my child move within me, a tiny flutter.

I was Arafa who finally spoke. "By Aghama, we didn't know," he said apologetically.

"It's all right," I comforted him. "It's not as if I could have told you, although I knew it, even back in the desert when you found me. I remembered."

Arafa thought on this. "And were you afraid?" he asked.

"Afraid of what?" I didn't know what exactly he meant.

"Afraid of--" he began, then stopped. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "perhaps it is too soon to speak of this, in your weakened state but--"

"No," I interrupted. "What is it? If it has anything to do with my pearl, I must be told."

Arafa swallowed nervously and looked away. "There could be complications."

Complications. Immediately the word filled me with dread. Until then I had harbored no doubts. But now that the thought was out there, I realized what he had meant by his earlier question. Had I been afraid? No. Was I now? Yes.

I asked what he meant by "complications." He shook his head as if he was unwilling to tell me, but I was insistent.

Finally he admitted that he wasn't sure if any complications would come into play. On the one hand, my pearl might be perfectly, completely unaffected. On the other hand, the injuries I'd sustained had been serious. The knife wound. The blood loss. The heat exhaustion. The starvation. The fact that I had apparently gone without food or water and lain in the burning desert sun for a day or two.

It was a miracle that I had survived. My pearl might not have been so fortunate.